


keep your friends close

by Skyuni123



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Captain Marvel Spoilers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Femdom, Fight Sex, Mentor/Protégé, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, What Was I Thinking?, also mmkay who wouldn't want to be topped by carol, also... vers is... vers, i think that's what we've discovered in this little experiment, this is the smuttiest thing i've ever written but hey!, wrote this cause im bi and horny no ragrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-13 15:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18034661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: six years, from ally to otherwise, through the eyes of yon-rogg.





	1. Chapter 1

It doesn’t take Yon-Rogg long to realise just how  _ annoying  _ the weapon is. 

 

Because that’s what she is, really. Just a weapon. That he’s recruited under false pretenses and even bigger lies. If he was Terran, like her, perhaps he’d feel bad about it, but as it stands, he’s not and he doesn’t.

 

There is no sympathy in war, and really, she should be dead already.

 

There isn’t anything else.

  
  


_ “Why’s your blood blue?” She asks, staring in awe at the tubing between them. It feeds his blood into her, giving her some of the strength of the Kree, but camouflaging her true power. It’s stifling, but for her own good. _

 

_ “It just is.” He replies, gruffly, and closes his eyes.  _

 

_ A weapon. Nothing more.  _

  
  


It doesn’t take much longer until he realises how  _ tenacious  _ she is, either.

 

Vers, as they’ve all come to call her, is stubborn - an ankle-biter, always pushing, always prodding, always wanting to know more about Hala and more about the wider universe - eating up knowledge like an over-eager student, and never letting go.

 

It should be an annoyance.

 

It really, really should.

 

But he finds her… tolerable. Someone to push against, who won’t just follow along with his directions, who wants to fight and bare her teeth.

 

It’s a rare wildness, an emotionality that he’s come to expect from Terrans. Though his time on their planet had been minimal, it hadn’t been hard to notice just how willing they all were to fight. 

 

He might preach control, but he desires opposition. It’s probably what makes him so good at his job. 

  
  


_ “This is  _ beautiful. _ ” She says, staring out of her window across the cityscape of Hala. The sun glints off the towers, and off the contours of her face. “Could we go up there?” _

 

_ She points at the tallest tower, the one that overlooks the entirety of the city below. “Why?” _

 

_ “I think past me used to like heights.” She says, and grins cheekily, not concerned about her missing memories for the first time in a while. “Actually. Flying. Can we go flying?” _

 

_ “Not when your powers are still like that.” He points out, noticing the sparks flitting around her clenched fist. _

 

Oh. She’ll burn the skies to the ground when they let her loose. He can’t wait to see it.

 

_ “Control, remember?” _

 

_ “What if I don’t want to control it, Yon-Rogg? What then? You going to fight me for it?” _

 

_ That seems like a very, very good idea. _

 

She’s even more wild when they start sparring together. She’s been trained, obviously - he thinks her life on Terra was of a military sort, but he can’t be sure - and she throws herself into the routines with fire in her veins. 

 

He supposes he’s become her mentor, of a sort, now. The thought should worry him more than it does.

 

Perhaps he’s getting too close, but he’s not going to pay that any mind. It is all for the good of the war.

 

Nothing more.

  
  


_ “Tell me to control it one more time, Rogg, and I swear I’ll -” _

 

_ “What?” He sneers, too riled up to even moderate his tone. It’s late afternoon. They’ve been getting nowhere for hours, and he can’t even keep his cool. “What will you do, Vers?” _

 

_ But instead of answering, she punches him square in the jaw.  _

 

_ A better mentor would have been expecting it, but he’s never ever claimed to be good. _

 

_ It doesn’t take him long to get her in a grip on the floor. She’s shattered, they both are, so her concentration’s shot. He sees tendrils of flame beginning to lick around the edges of her fists. “Control it.” He hisses, and presses her further into the training mat. “Don’t be so predictable.”  _

 

_ Instead of answering, she throws him off her back, pushing him to the ground next to her. They scrap like youths, all combat control forgotten, rolling over and over on the training mat. It’s good to feel out of control once in a while - letting the primality and fire run through his movements.  _

_ He draws blood, green falling from the edge of her cheek and she gasps and retaliates, slamming his head down onto the mat so hard that he sees stars for a moment.  _

 

_ Wavering. Faltering. Snapping back for a moment. Notices the press of their bodies together - so close, too close - against the ground.  _

 

_ He wants nothing more to taste the blood - his blood - dripping from her face. To reach out and draw her down to him and press their bodies together on the cool of the mat. _

 

_ “That’s enough for today. Get some rest.” He says, and slides out from under her.  _

 

_ He can feel her eyes on his back as he walks away. _

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 

_ Sunlight, warm on his back. The sky clear, blonde hair on the pillow beside him. _

 

_ He can smell the smoke in the area, the flames, the metallic tang of energy, of a process gone too wrong. _

 

_ He doesn’t feel content when he wakes up. _

  
  


“You are getting too close to the weapon.” Korath says, before their briefing the next morning. He doesn’t look pleased, but then again, he rarely does.

 

“Would you prefer having to take her power by force?” He asks. If he was a lesser man, he’d wince at the grit in his voice, but he’s not. Any emotionality is by design.

 

“Rogg, I wasn’t-”

 

“Save it.” He spits. Korath is lucky he doesn’t get a demotion for suggesting such a thing. He would - never. 

 

“What’s going on?” Vers says, arriving just a moment too late to catch the conversation. “Korath threaten to kill your sister or something, Yon-Rogg?”

 

“Korath just told a reprehensible joke.” He lies, swiftly, and curses himself for the absolute futility of it. It’s a bad lie, for anyone, and especially for someone who likes to question things as much as Vers does.

 

“Yes.” Korath adds, stone-faced. “I do not joke.”

 

Vers, thankfully, doesn’t get any time to question it.

  
  


_ The edge of a losing battle. Skrulls around them, above them, hidden behind any corner. They might be a refugee race but they can bring the firepower when they need it, and the Starforce team is pinned.  _

_ Edge of a cliff, edge of a ravine, edge of his temper. _

 

_ “Time till extraction?” Vers yells over the comm. It was only supposed to be a training mission. To see her skills in action. To  _ know.  _ But she’s fatigued. He can hear in her voice. _

_ If she dies here, it’ll be… inconvenient.  _

 

_ “Too long. Pull back.” He orders, and knows she’ll question it. _

 

_ “But -” _

 

_ “Don’t question me, Vers. Pull back to the encampment.” _

 

_ “I’m so close to the targe-’ _

 

_ “No. I’ll meet you back at the camp in five. Be there.” _

 

_ He feels rather than hears her step away.  _

 

_ She isn’t happy. _ _   
_ _ But then again, she rarely is with him. _

  
  


“Why do you keep on pulling me back?!” She storms into the camp, blue blood dripping from her nose. She’s bruised, too, hair akimbo and bloody. “It’s unfair. You know I can do this, Rogg. You need to let me.”

 

“Clean yourself up.” He says, and tosses her a rag. “You’re dripping all over the carpet.”

 

But she doesn’t. “You need to let me go. I’m not a kid. I can do this!”   
  


“You’re too emotional. Do you always want to come back from a fight looking like that? Or worse?”

 

Vers throws the rag to the side. “Don’t patronise me.”

 

“I’m not.” He picks the rag up and starts dabbing at the cuts on her forehead and down her neck. “I’m trying to take care of you.”

 

“Well, don’t.”

 

She bats his hand away from her face again with a fist flickering with fire. She knows she’s being petulant, he can see it in her eyes, but neither of them want to give up. 

 

“You need to stop this.” He says, suddenly irritated for reasons he can’t explain. “This… insolence. You’ll have to commune with the Supreme Intelligence if you can’t maintain control over your abilities.”

 

“I have control.” She replies, and glares up at him, brown eyes filled with flames.

 

Sometimes he wonders what she would be like if she knew her own strength.

Sometimes he doesn’t want to know.

 

“Prove it, then. No games, no weapons. Just you and me.”

 

And as though she’s been waiting for the moment her entire life, she attacks. 

  
  


He throws the rag to the floor and goes for her, pushing past her defenses and clutching around the base of her throat. “Don’t start anything you can’t win.” He warns.

 

“What makes you think I can’t win this?” She retorts, and shoves him away. 

 

They flip, tumble, push. She kicks him in the stomach, right where it hurts, and nearly knocks the breath from his chest. 

Her anger gives her strength, but it makes her fallible. Uncontrolled. 

Grab. Twist. Down.

 

They’re on the floor together, his knee pressing into her back. “Yield.” He grunts, and twists her arm further up her back. It’s enough to sting, nothing more. It’s a lesson.

Personally, he expected better.

“Yield. Come on, Vers. Give it up.”

 

She shocks him so hard through her hands that he flies four feet back and crashes down onto his back on the carpet below.

 

It dazes him. Just for a moment.

 

“That’s… cheating.” He groans, and blinks away the fuzz over his eyes. Sitting up seems like a bad idea, but he moves to do it anyway. “You won’t always have these abilities. Relying on them makes you vulnerable.”

 

“Does it?” Vers says, and straddles his hips. She leans over, and forces his shoulders back to the floor. “Really? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like I won.” 

 

And despite it all, he’s proud of her. The impulsivity is a problem, and so is the lip, but she’s a formidable fighter and more than a match for him. It almost makes him wish that she wasn’t a-

No. “Don’t get distracted.” He grunts, and rolls her off him.

 

And then they’re fighting again, tumbling over and over on the floor. She claws a gash open on his wrist with her nails, draws blue blood to the surface.

His blood. Their blood. 

 

They stain the carpet, bloody and bruised and shattered and sore, gasping heavily in the cool of the night. Tumble. Spar. Fight. It feels like forever and no time at all. 

But at last, they stop. He steadies himself on his knees over her. Their bodies are very close.

“You’re bleeding.”

 

But it’s not her blood. He licks his lips, feels the sting, the tang, the  _ life.  _

 

“Don’t start.” She says, and kisses him.

 

There is a moment of  _ this is a very bad idea _ , but he quashes the thought down, gets over it, because he feels it, the power thrumming through her veins, that bright spark of attraction, and he doesn’t quite care anymore. 

 

She kisses like she fights, punchy, wild, with bite - giving as good as she gets. Wrapping her hands around the base of his skull, her sharp nails leave pinpricks through the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. 

He’s bruised there too, some remnant of a fight or something, and she presses down, lancing dull pain down his back. He gasps, muscles tensing, then releasing, and sinks into her embrace.

 

“All that talk of control.” She sighs, punch-drunk, lips red and wet, “and you give it up this easily?” 

 

“I-” But she’s right. All that power… it’s certainly something. 

 

“No talking.”

 

Getting naked seems to take all the time in the world, but it’s worth it when Vers presses in, soft and warm beside him, splotches of blue blood patterned down her chin and down the curve of her chest. 

 

“Taste it.” She says, and he  _ does,  _ too caught in a haze of _ being given orders  _ to protest.

 

Her blood. 

Their blood.

 

“Forgetting something?” She says, with a gleam in her eye and it’s almost reassuring to know that she’s  _ always _ like this,  _ always  _ so lippy, even naked on a carpet at the end of the universe.

She’s impatient, too impatient to wait, so she grabs his hair again and drags his face down to her breasts. She gasps again, breathing hard, as he sucks a nipple into his mouth.

 

“Come on-” She hisses, “Just-  _ please,”  _ and guides him down between her legs.

 

He’s hard, so hard it almost  _ hurts  _ against the rough carpet, but the desire to make her cry out is too strong to even think about himself. When she grabs his hand and pulls it between her legs, he can’t help but shudder, pleasure arcing through the pain of them. He can tell how much she wants this, tell how much she needs it too.

They’re linked. They always will be, after this.

 

“Like that?” He asks, though he’s only doing it to be cocky, and she arches back, gripping his wrist and shifting his fingers a little.

 

“Like _that_.”

 

The sight of her, eyelids fluttering, chest rising and falling as she breathes heavily, is too much to bear. He grips his cock in his other hand, fighting off the urge to rush. No. Some things need to be  _ savoured.  _

 

“Hurry up.” She says, clutching at his hair tightly, and that’s enough of an endorsement for him to inch in closer, getting his tongue against her clit. “Yes-  _ God _ \- fuck-” she stammers, and her words dissolve into something - perhaps phrases, perhaps Terran - that’s too wracked with pleasure for his universal translator to even try to communicate. 

 

It’s good, so unbelievably good - their closeness, the tension release, the bond that they both share - that he thinks he even sees stars when  _ she  _ comes.

 

“You know.” Vers says thoughtfully, later, when they’re lying together on the bed in the encampment sweaty, bloody and naked, “I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

 

“Yes.” He replies.

If only she knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *writes significant amounts of yon-rogg smut*
> 
> also me: yon-rogg is definitely an incel and has never had sex in his entire life

**Author's Note:**

> yes. they're enemies. but also. i'm bi and they're hot. so. hm.
> 
> yell at me over on my [ tumblr ](http://eph-em-era.tumblr.com)


End file.
